Getting a Head Start
by Skyrene
Summary: Friendships and understanding don't happen overnight. Nor does partnership between a trainer and a Pokemon. A boy and his Murkrow, one year before the beginning.


**Getting a Head Start**

_by_

_Skyrene_

* * *

His first conscious information obtained was that his mother was dead. She got carried off by some stronger Pokémons, his group told him. They always said that whenever he asked. And then they set about ignoring him. Like always.

Then _that_ human came. A short boy for his age (but this was only found out later), sitting in a wheelchair and looking very frail, with dark hair and dead eyes. That combined with his thin face and pale skin nearly made him mistook the boy for a corpse. He didn't even react when one of the other Murkrows landed and started to peck at him. At least, not anymore than to glance at it, scaring it away.

Despise what others might like to say – or sometimes even him – that was the first time they met. Ever.

And so it went. The summer passed. He would've completely forgotten about the boy had it not been because there was a very comfortable oak tree in said boy's backyard. By the end of that summer, he was strong enough to stand on his own, and began to chase away other Pokémons and animals that tried to go at him and the tree. That was _his_ tree.

Soon enough, they got the message. And he was left alone with his tree, the backyard and the boy.

The boy came out to the backyard almost everyday, looking from the glass door if the weather was dark. It didn't take long for him to notice that he was watching the entrance to his dwelling, at the gates. Every day, from afternoon to evening, he could see the boy sitting there, in his wheelchair, watching the gates and waiting.

It was curious behavior, for sure. In his experience, humans run about, making lots of noises and generally being _active_. The people in this settlement sure did just that. Rarely did he see people actually _resting_ for more than a few moments, and even at night, when everything sensible was asleep, some were still up and making noises. In his experience, no human just sat there and _stared_.

But this little human here seemed to be different. And so, his curiosity piqued, he began to watch.

There was nothing to watch at first. When he started to really pay attention again, he noticed for the first time that the boy was out of his wheelchair. He was sitting at a set of swings instead, still looking at the gates, still waiting. Every day. If there weather was good, he stayed outside from lunch till dusk. If the weather was bad, he sat in the house, protected by the glass doors, and watched from afternoon till evening.

It was incredibly _boring_, and sometimes he watched just because he had nothing better to do. The Pokémons in this settlement no longer bothered him, the last stray Staraptor who'd come asking for a fight having left with lots of scratch marks and a painful warning never to mess with him again. The few others fled when he started circling the city searching for food each night. He'd become strong, all on his own, and while he was proud of that, he was bored. So he watched the kid.

Winter came and went, and he kept watching.

He didn't get noticed at all. The boy did the same thing day in, day out. Sometimes another human, a female with blonde hair, would come out of the house and told him to come in. But the boy would shake his head and dismissed her. She would sigh and return to the house, and that would be that.

Soon, it became a routine. He would go to sleep near dawn, dropping off until he heard the glass door sliding open. Then he would wake, watch the child do his own ritual of sitting and waiting, and when the kid stood to go back inside, he would set off to hunt.

Day in, day out. Always the same. It was his cycle.

Spring replaced winter, carrying away the last chill, blowing it far across the ocean. And still the boy kept watch in silence, sitting on a swing and looking at the gate. It was as though it would never change, that they both would continue this cycle until they were gone.

So it went, the cycle. Day in, day out. Unbroken. Undisturbed.

By the second month of the year, however, things changed for both of them.

There was a flock of migrating Noctowls. He didn't know what provoked them, because the boy had only been sitting here and doing his usual routine of sitting and waiting, but something did, and one of the Noctowls suddenly dropped out of the sky, heading straight toward the boy with an attack that he'd recognized almost immediately: Ariel Ace.

While it would've probably only knocked a Pokémon flat, a human wasn't the same. They were always frailer, always weaker, and they had no thick fur or plated armor or scales to protect themselves. They manipulated their surroundings into helping with their "technologies", and so they often won battles with a Pokémon. But they weren't used to fighting one-on-one, defenseless.

It was _wrong_, someone attacker a weaker foe unprovoked. And it threatened to break their cycle, and it threatened the _kid_, and so he retaliated.

By basis, Aerial Ace never missed, and that was a fact. However, it could be countered, so he did just that, slamming the Noctowl out of the way before it had the chance to land the hit on the boy.

Only when he did that did he notice that the Noctowl was probably aiming at the platter of untouched food sitting before the boy and not the kid himself. Oh well. Minor mistake. He probably got the entire flock on him, so what? He was strong, right?

Three Aerial Aces, lots of Screeching, some fancy psychic moves and a lot of Pecks later, that became clear. He lied defeated in the dirt, while the Noctowl, feathers torn off and generally looking raggedy, took flight triumphantly. He thought it was done, but then it suddenly turned to execute a dive.

"It's going to use Aerial Ace," a small timid voice said suddenly from behind him. "You can be faster and use your own before it–"

And that was all he stayed to listen to. He was twenty feet in the air in less than several seconds, putting all his power in one final Aerial Ace, knocking the bird clean out of the sky. It plummeted into the bushes below, leaving him to hover, panting, but _victorious_.

That was the first day they officially interacted with each other, even if said "interaction" involved him being nearly beaten, returned to his tree to sulk, and stole the platter of berries with him as well.

Little more than a week later, the gifts started coming.

He liked solitude, he liked watching some strange human boy repeating the same task over and over again and not get too bored, but he was still _him_. A Murkrow. Which meant he liked shiny things. _Especially_ glow-in-the-dark shiny things. _Lots_ of glow-in-the-dark shiny things.

On the first day of the week, he returned from his hunt to find something sparkling at the trunk of the tree. Curious (and enamored), he quickly landed to check what it was. It was a smooth stone, almost looking like it was made of crystal. There was some sort of light inside, casting a pleasant green glow.

He liked it. So he took it. He put it in a small nest at the center of the oak tree he'd made to store special things he came across. The stone also cast a lovely light on the other treasures in the nest, and he loved it all the more.

Some day there'd been something shiny for his treasure trove. Some day there'd been berries and other food thingies that were _much_ better than the things he could dig out of garbage cans or even the flesh of other preys he hunted. He appreciated them very much, and he knew who passed them along.

The boy still did his own little ritual, though. Everyday, afternoon until evening, sometimes being held inside by spring rain, and sometimes sitting from lunch to after dark, probably to watch the stars. He would go inside, though, and that was when _he_ would go to hunt. Or just fly around these days. When he came back, there was always a platter of food for him.

As refreshing as that was, it didn't go any further…until the boy didn't show up one day.

0o0o0o0o0

It was late in the afternoon, an hour or two pass the time the kid often appeared. He was getting worried. He had found out recently that the kid left at break of dawn, went somewhere (probably to one of those "schools" human children went to and learned things) and returned an hour before he was due in the garden. But still, why didn't the boy come back?

He opted to wait some more. And some more. And some more.

It was getting dark, and still no boy. He was hungry, too, but he wanted to wait for the boy to appear first, not wanting to break the cycle he was so familiar with. Or maybe it was because he was just plain worried. He didn't know at the time.

The sun began to sink, and _still_ the child wasn't back. He had to do something about it.

Silently, he took flight, then headed north. That was where the children went to, he'd heard some Pidgeons talking. They were trained Pokémons, _prisoners_, and he didn't like them. But they knew more about humans than he did, he presumed, so he was going to listen to them this once – if only this once.

He never actually got _to_ the building. He found his target halfway there, by listening to some Houndoom chatting. Apparently there was an unconscious little human sitting in an alley not far from there. Dark hair, pale-skinned, short, thin…They were vague, the descriptions, but he decided to check it out anyway.

Right on cue, he found the kid. But he wasn't sitting leaned against the wall anymore. He was dragging himself to the opposite direction of his house. It took the Murkrow a bit of confusion, but then he realized that the boy was either lost or didn't have the strength of mind to think anymore.

When he saw the kid's face, he became more worried.

The human had a black eye, a blown-up lip, bruises, and some nasty cuts as well. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken, and he was holding his right arm painfully. Dislocation? Maybe. Either way, it was clear the little boy needed to get to help, and _fast_.

While he didn't really want to go mixing in with his neighbor Pokémons, he knew enough to know that there was this place called a Pokémon Center, where they healed people. Mostly Pokémons, but people too, he guessed. And it had a…red roof, was it? He couldn't remember. But he did remember seeing a strange building that stood out from others with that big sign of the special ball thing trainers used to catch Pokémons. Maybe that was it?

He snatched the boy's jacket sleeve with his beak and started pulling him. That got the kid's attention, and he was rewarded with a vague, dazed flash of recognition.

"The Murkrow," the boy mumbled, stumbling for a moment. He extended a black wing to help steady him. "From before, right? The one in the backyard at Auntie's house?"

Oh, so that was who the woman was. Auntie.

"_Yes_," he replied. But the human didn't seem to hear, and if he did, would probably not understand at all. They were like that. They thought their Pokémons were just saying their own names, or part of it, or whatever. Humans didn't really understand.

Still, it looked as though the boy got the message. "Got to…go home…" And he started walking again, in the wrong direction.

"_Over here,_" he insisted, tugging the boy to the right way. To his relief, the kid didn't protest, instead shuffling around and followed him almost obediently. The dead eyes were drowsy and glazed and looking less dead than usual, not that such an observation struck as important to him at that time. He needed to get the boy away from here, under friendlier wings. Just somewhere safer.

Their little trip was slow and painstaking, he having to stop several times to scare away the scavengers who hunted at night or the few trained ones that barked. Street after street, he instinctively kept to the shadowy alleys, the thought of exposing the child to one of the other humans not once occurring to him. If other Murkrows had hurt _him_, then how could he be sure the other humans wouldn't do the same to their own kind?

Eventually, though, they reached it. It had been red-roofed all right, and he thanked the legendaries that it had a back door. He didn't like poking his beak into the opening. To the humans, Murkrows were pests. He wouldn't have been welcomed, not in his hometown where he'd caused so much trouble. They would probably capture him and ship him out to some other places and be owned by one of those "trainers".

He didn't want to fight for anyone but himself. He couldn't get the idea into his head.

They marched up to the door just as it swung open to reveal another human, this one female, taller, and wearing glasses. He tensed in alarm, but it was already too late anyway. The human had spotted them. "Hey!" she called, running toward them. Behind her, a Chansey poke her head out from the door, looking surprised.

The taller human reached them in three steps, then knelt beside the boy. She put her hands on his shoulders to keep him upright as she did a quick once-over. Then she turned to him. "Are you his Pokémon?" she asked, her face serious.

He was surprised at the question, but he cawed and shook his head. That was the human gesture for saying "no". Or so he assumed.

She seemed to get the message and nodded. That meant "affirmative" or "yes", if he wasn't wrong. "We'll take care of him," she promised, lifting the boy up with the help of another young human who'd run outside at the call. They quickly entered the building, shutting the door behind them and leaving him to stand in the darkness.

0o0o0o0o0

He didn't hunt that night. He perched on the roof of the Pokémon Center and watched the young humans coming in and out of the building. Some pointed to him and one even tried to capture him, but he dodged the red-and-white balls thrown in his direction and fled. He alternated between the back door and the roof, and he was thankful to catch the Chansey who had gone out with a bowl of that pebbly manmade Pokémon food. He thanked her, but that was it.

Dawn came, bringing along with it the woman he'd seen staying in the same dwelling with the boy. She looked worried, her expression tight, and she gave him a look when she spotted him on the roof. But that was all, and he was grateful. He didn't need scolding humans on his tail. And who knows, she might even chase him out of her oak tree.

Well, the oak tree was technically his house, but it was in her backyard, so she was, what, his master? Surely there was a more appropriate term. He racked his brain for it. Landlord? Yes, landlord. Although "lord" didn't quite fit the lady. So it was _landlady_, then?

See? Living in the city paid off. Even when he had to risk getting rocks thrown at him to learn such trivial information. Rich men in rich-looking clothes didn't seem to like being watched by _pests_ (translation: him).

The boy came out eventually, walking with Auntie's hand on his shoulder. He seemed to be in better shape than the day before, but still looking rather dazed and still stumbled slightly with each step. And the child seemed to be looking around, as though he wanted to find something.

It might be too much to hope for, but…

From his perch on the rooftop, he let out a loud squawk.

The boy turned at the sound, saw him, and smiled.

Auntie didn't, though. She scowled at him, scowled at the kid, and then roughly pulled him away. She didn't like him. She didn't like the boy. She didn't like what was happening between them.

0o0o0o0o0

Their cycle got switched up a little. From then on, he shadowed the boy to this school building thingy, watched him disappearing into it before going hunting. He was back to his diet of smaller preys and trash can stuff, but it was better than nothing. Several times he'd gone to the Pokémon Center's back door, waiting there to see if there'd been any charity food. Sometimes there was. Sometimes he was late and the Rattatas and the Houndooms got a hold on the food first, leaving him to hunt for himself.

After a few days of watching, he finally determined what time the boy got out. He would return to the school building then and shadowed him all the way home. Then he'd rested in his tree, watch the boy perform his daily ritual, but remained still as the boy disappeared inside. He reappeared with a small plate of fresh berries and set it at the oak's trunk.

"Auntie's getting suspicious," the boy explained as he stared at the diminutive amount of food. "She doesn't know you lived here. Better if she doesn't notice at all."

And he agreed. He liked the boy – that realization came with a shock – but he didn't like Auntie.

It was always best to let sleeping Persians lie.

0o0o0o0o0

It didn't take long for him to start noticing the boy had problems. Three other children who came to the same school liked to pick on him. They were burly, twice his size and probably a lot heavier. Some day he would be fast enough and escape the schoolyard before they came along. Some day they'd gotten out first and caught him by the gate.

He'd seen this before, of course. It happened all the time. When a lone Murkrow got something good, a flock of three or four others would fight with it to try and steal the prey.

But what could this boy have that these other boys want? They didn't seem to _need_ anything from him. Well, except to make him cry and make him feel pain, that was. And that was no reason to be attacking someone. Couldn't they go to challenge someone their own size? Wouldn't that be more fair than this?

The illogic of it baffled him.

He let the bullies have their way once. The second time he Pecked them until they ran home crying. They were never seen around the boy ever again.

The boy started to slip him treats like cakes or other human delicacies in his usual nighttime treat, and he, in turn, kept a closer eye on the child. It was a small, unspoken deal. Both of them agreed by it, so why shouldn't it be accepted?

Soon it became part of their routine, for the boy to get out of school and look up to see him standing on a cable line, staring back. And then the boy would smile, and he would caw in reply, and they would go home together.

Time passed, and he noticed: those eyes weren't so dead anymore.

0o0o0o0o0

Everything went wrong when Auntie realized he was living in her oak tree.

When he was away worrying about the boy and his trip to school and generally worrying about problems that _weren't his but somehow was still worth his attention_, she climbed up the tree (did she really do that?) and removed every single shining thing and every single treasure and everything he kept up there that was his and tossed it into the garbage. When they got home, she proclaimed loudly what she did.

He was angry – no, he was _furious_. He flew down at her and clawed at her shirt, pulling at her hair, pecking at her head. She screamed, and the boy tried to get between them. And he scratched him on the head.

It didn't draw much blood, but the damage was done. The boy stared at him, as though he'd never seen him before, before disappearing into the house, dragged by Auntie. She used this funny machine of hers, which he later identified as the phone, and said something about pest control service.

He heard the term before. He knew what it was. And he fled.

Of course, they never caught him. He didn't return to that place again, and for a long time he didn't return to see the boy either. He thought it was foolish, to rely so much on humans. Sure, they all relied on humans here, living off of them even, but not so…personal. So first-handed.

He didn't visit the Pokémon Center either. In other words, he didn't visit any of the other places he and the boy had come together from before. He found it easier to just ignore it, like it had never even existed.

Time passed. Spring ended. Summer rolled by again. And still he'd heard nothing of the boy or Auntie.

He didn't care. He forced himself not to care. It wasn't as if he needed either of them anyway.

0o0o0o0o0

Despise everything, they somehow found themselves meeting again.

It was near the end of summer, and the kids were complaining about going back to school. He, scavenge-hunting in a garbage heap nearby, caught wind of the conversation. It made him miss the boy some time back, but he quickly shook it from his mind. He didn't need them anymore, he reminded himself. And he hated Evil Auntie. He _hated_ her.

But he didn't hate the boy. He really didn't.

He felt a little hot that day, so he headed toward the east. Out of the city, there was a very large lake with no dangerous Pokémon to be found. He often went there in summer days, and this one was proving to be particularly hot. So what if he needed to cool off? After all, he'd gained quite a reputation in town; they would leave him alone.

It had been awhile since he showed his beak in public. Maybe he would enjoy scaring the others a bit.

Unluckily for him, he never quite reached the place. He got…distracted in the middle of the road. And guess who it was that was the distraction?

The boy's eyes widened as he landed before him, both of them surprised. Him mainly because he couldn't figure out why he'd made himself known at all, and to the kid no less. Hadn't he sworn never to return to him?

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, shocked. "You're…that Murkrow, weren't you? The one Auntie upset."

He snorted. _Upset_ was putting it lightly. But the boy paid no heed.

"You are!" he cried instead, sweeping him into a hug. "I'm so glad! I thought you've left already, or at least been captured and marched off to somewhere."

Again, he snorted. Like he'd allowed _that_ to happen. Being captured by a trainer was a shame, and he was better than that. He wouldn't let himself being carted off so easily.

And the hug was surprisingly nice and warm. The last time he'd been hugged was…well, never. Now that he was, however, he found that he really, _really_ liked it. So he let the boy hug him and not protest, because how long will it be before they parted again?

0o0o0o0o0

"Come with me," the boy had said, gesturing for him to come alone. "I need to show you something."

He'd followed.

They returned to the house, but this time at a corner behind it, where the glass doors weren't visible and where there was only one tiny, small window. The boy then went to retrieve one of those things humans used to dig with. What did they call it? Shovel? Then he started to dig.

After a few minutes and a triumphant sound, he pulled a small chest from it. Then he reached into his shirt and withdrew an unimpressive copper key that hung from a leather around his neck. He used it on the lock on the chest, and then threw the lid back.

What he saw made him throw himself at the boy in a voluntary hug. Again.

It was everything he'd lost when Evil Auntie had given his tree a good scrubbing-down (figuratively speaking, of course). Every shiny thing that was his and some more he didn't recognize, along with that green stone that had been a gift from the boy. Everything. It was in there.

"I thought you'd miss them," the boy said with a smile in his voice.

He did. But he missed the kid more than the treasures.

Things were better again.

0o0o0o0o0

He moved back into the oak tree. This time, the boy had a long and heated conversation with Evil Auntie about his stay. Finally, she'd obviously caved in as the boy stormed up to the tree and told him placidly that he could stay as long as he wanted and do whatever he wanted with the oak. It was his.

Evil Auntie gave the tree the Evil Eye all the time, but he'd never lost anything again. And he resumed his job of escorting the boy to school, went about hunting, and then returned in the afternoon to escort him home, let him do his ritual thingy of sitting from afternoon till evening, then got up to get his treat.

This time, though, he preferred to perch on the swing set instead of watching from the tree. And the boy wasn't waiting anymore. He was just doing it out of habit. Whatever he'd been waiting for had either come home (which he doubted, since Evil Auntie was the only other living creature in the house aside) or he'd given up on waiting.

He didn't care. It was good. He had his friend – his _friend_ – back, and that was all that mattered.

He found out that he adored the boy and his company. The boy liked him back. That made him happy.

0o0o0o0o0

Summer was over again, and he started preparing for winter. It would be cold this year, the boy said, and it would be a bit hard for him to survive. But he would manage. He always did. Although technically, this would only be his second winter. It had been a year already? And he hadn't noticed at all.

"I'll be twelve soon," the boy said one evening, swinging back and forth, back and forth. He was dressed in warmer clothes now. It was getting chilly. "It's been a year already."

His tone was thoughtful, and he didn't like that. The boy was prone to sudden fits of dark musing every once in awhile. Then he'd ended up sad, and he didn't like the boy sad. It made him want to find the culprit and get rid of them, but he knew he couldn't. Humans were more complicated than that.

So he gently pecked the boy's head, effectively pulling him out of whatever dark thoughts were forming in that little head of his. "Ow!" the boy cried, fending him off. "Stop it! I'm not a nut to be cracked!" Despise that, he giggled.

He added another gentle peck before drawing away, laughing himself. It was fun to tease his friend. But he knew humans were fragile, so he only used enough force to make it hurt slightly if not only tickle. After all, what kind of creature hurt his friend?

"Say," the boy said suddenly, "how come I'm able to understand you, even all you say is 'Murkrow'?" He scratched his head. "Is my imagination a bit too active?"

Ah, that had been another thing. The boy could obviously understand him. It took awhile, though, and much talking to achieve that. Not that he could be called "the boy" anymore. He had a name. Cody. He'd been told that two weeks before.

"_No it's not,_" he responded instantly. "_Wasn't it established your imagination was very poor?_"

Cody looked up indignantly. "Hey! I drew you almost perfectly!"

"_You copy my image down on a piece of paper. That's hardly creative._"

"Perfectionist, aren't you?"

"_Maybe._"

Cody laughed. It was nice to hear. He leaned down and pecked the dark head gently again, then withdrawing quickly before the boy's slender hands could grab him. "_Faster,_" he admonished.

Cody rolled his eyes, but laughed again. Soon he joined in the laugh, too. And it was even nicer to hear then, with two people laughing. Not two humans, not two Murkrows together, but just two beings sharing a little fun.

0o0o0o0o0

"What's your name?"

The topic had come up somewhere in midwinter. It was cold, but Cody still insisted on getting out to meet him at the swing set. It was where they met nowadays.

He thought about that. "_I don't really have a name._"

"What does other call you by? You know, other Pokémons?"

"_It's often 'Hey, you!' or 'Please don't kill me, Master Murkrow!'_" That was when he didn't have such a nice home as this one. That was when he still had to fend for himself. He glanced down at Cody curiously. "_Why do you ask_?"

The boy shrugged. "I just want to know. I realized that I didn't call you anything aside from 'Murkrow' or 'Hey, you!' and sounding so _general_. I mean, there's only one you, right? And a name makes you special, makes you stand out as an individual." His eyes got a faraway look. He kicked the swing into motion. It went back and forth, back and forth, creaking and groaning.

Well, he'd certainly never known about that one. "_I need one, I guess. But who would name me? My mother died when I was very young._"

Cody looked up. He didn't say anything, but there was something in his eyes for a second, and suddenly he realized that he knew how it felt to be motherless. The boy probably was without a mother, too.

"Then do you mind if I call you something?" he asked, suddenly sounding timid. Then Cody added hastily, "Of course, if you don't want to–"

"_Sounds good. Go ahead._" He smirked. "_Let me see that creative factor of yours, O Imaginative One._"

Cody rolled his eyes. "How about Hex?"

He was intrigued. He cocked his head at the strange name, pondering it. "_Does it have a meaning?_"

"Yeah. It means 'charm'. You know, the little pouch with the tag on it Auntie had dangling from her purse?" Cody forced the swing to move a little faster.

He pretended to be miffed. "_You named me after Evil Auntie's accessory ornament? Really?_"

"You can be Jinx. It means 'bad luck', though."

Silence.

"_Oh, fine. Hex it is. Are you happy now?_"

Cody grinned (smirked) at him . "Of course!" he replied cheerfully.

"Hex" rolled his eyes.

0o0o0o0o0

He knew something was wrong when Cody walked to his tree one winter evening, his eyes puffy like he'd been crying. Quickly, Hex jumped to the lowest branch, only slightly taller than the boy, and stared at him in the eye worriedly. "_Did something happen?_" he asked, concerned.

Cody shook his head. He was lying. "Nothing," he said forcefully, turning and slumping against the tree trunk. In the snow. When the sun was going down.

Without hesitation, Hex hopped down to sit in the snow with him. "_Something's wrong,_" he stated flatly. "_Are you going to tell it or not?_"

He was answered with stoic silence.

Hex sighed. "_Of course not. Well, I'll be up there in my warm tree and sleep away the chill if you need me–_"

"It's Auntie."

The Murkrow paused in his way up. "_Oh. Right. What did Evil Auntie do this time 'round?_"

Cody shook his head, although he smiled at Hex's nickname for his guardian. "She's just being overprotective, that's all." He started twiddling his thumb, his eyes fixed on his gloved hands. "I want to go on the trainer journey."

Well, that was some piece of new. Hex dropped onto Cody's shoulders. "_The one where you become a trainer and catch lots of Pokémons?_" He'd heard of that one before. The kids at Cody's school had been voluminous about it, especially around age ten.

Cody nodded. "Yeah, that one."

"_Any particular reason as to why?_"

The boy took a deep breath, then sighed. His breath came out as a puff of mist. "My mom went missing a year ago. It was an accident. We were attacked by some angry Pokémons, and they were unnaturally strong for the ones in that region. They wiped her team out and hurt me really badly. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and they told me my mom was dead." He shivered, his body shaking badly.

Hex waited patiently for him to continue.

"I…They told me Mom was dead, but they didn't let me see the body. We held the burial and everything, but…I don't know if she's still alive or not. There's no proof."

"_Go dig up the body,_" Hex suggested. He was surprised to be given a horrified look.

"No! I can't do that!" Cody shook his head vigorously. "Besides, it's not needed. I asked Auntie already, and finally, today, she said it wasn't true. Mom only went missing, that's all. They never found the body. They thought it'd just be easier to tell me she's dead."

"_You don't believe them,_" Hex said. "_You've been waiting, all these months._" So _that_ was what had happened.

"Yeah," Cody admitted. He curled up into a ball and rested his forehead on his knees. "It's really elaborated, though, the entire thing. Why did they go to the extent of making a fake funeral, then? Were they trying to hide something? I wanted to find out, so that's why I want to go on this journey. I don't care about the Pokémons or the badges. I just want to find what happened."

He said this in a rush, as though desperate to let them out. Hex held silent and listened, then finally nodded. The rest he could guess for himself. "_And you need one of these 'starter' Pokémons, correct?_" he asked.

Cody sighed. "Yeah. Though I can't get them without lots of paperwork, lots of signing this and that, and overall a lot of mess. Auntie wouldn't even _agree_ to let me go."

Hex thought about that. "_Do you need her approval?_"

"Until I earn four badges, yeah. After four badges, I can do my own stuff and sign up by myself as a legal trainer."

"_How do you earn these badges?_"

"By fighting in gyms. You go one-on-one with the Gym Leader, beat them, and get the badges." Cody lifted his head suddenly. "Why did you ask?" He sounded a bit suspicious, but hopeful as well.

Hex pecked his head gently. "_Then get your stuff and let's go. I'll be your starter._"

That resulted in shocked silence. Then, almost fearfully, "But I thought you didn't like being a trained Pokémon."

"_It's one thing to be captured against my will. It's another to help a friend._" Hex hopped over Cody's head and landed on the snow before him. "_We _are_ friends, right?_"

He was suddenly engulfed in a hug. "You're the best!" his friend exclaimed. "Of course we are friends! I'll…I'll go pack up and we'll leave next week. So as to let Auntie think we've forgotten about it."

"_Indeed,_" Hex agreed. "_You are a master plotter in the making, my friend._"

He was reward with a bright if somewhat shaky grin.

0o0o0o0o0

Cody took in a deep breath. The air was frosty and made his nose dry, but he hardly paid any attention to it. Instead, he looked at the snow-covered path ahead, leading out of his city. Once he walked out of here, he knew he wasn't going to be able to turn back for some time soon. Auntie would not allow him to leave again. Hopefully she wasn't awake yet and noticed that he was gone.

Hopefully…

He didn't have time to waste, that much was clear. Cody closed his eyes and took in another breath.

"_Done with your breathing activity?_"

The boy glanced at the black bird sitting on his shoulder contentedly. He exchanged a look with the red eyes, and steeled his nerves.

"Yeah, let's go."

Together, they walked past the gates.

* * *

_It was a lot longer than I intended for it to be, but I think I'm happy with this one. I think._

_Review?_


End file.
